


Interlude

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Interludes [1]
Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship, oh no he's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: We know it's left up to Watts to escort Jack from the interview room to his cell, though we don't see how it goes.Since this is something that happens before the starting point of 'Alone in Our Secret', I figured I might as well tackle it from Jack's POV instead, as a little side thing.
Relationships: Jack Walker/Llewellyn Watts
Series: Interludes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679167
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Alone In Our Secret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972768) by [AnnetheCatDetective](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective). 



The door opens, and Jack’s head jerks up. Detective Watts… a man he supposes he shouldn’t like, all things considered-- it had been Watts who had been perceptive enough to press him, when Inspector Brackenreid had been happy to discount him as a suspect. It had been Watts who had reappeared just when he’d started to breathe, with his lost shoe. But it had also been Watts who had given him a brief look he could only describe as sorrowful, whose voice had been soft when he had said he didn’t think handcuffs would be necessary. 

And it had been Watts, who had taken a seat beside his, during the interrogation rather than across the table, who had folded himself into that chair, made himself smaller, unthreatening. Whose voice had remained gentle when he had chimed in with questions of his own, never accusatory. 

And… there are those other things. The familiar tension with which he holds himself, a tightness Jack can feel in his own jaw, when he looks at him. A caution he knows too well. And… a magnetism. Maybe he can’t let himself be swayed by it, but he can’t ignore it, not wholly.

“Mister Walker.” His hands twist together, before he flexes them and forces them to still. _Good_ hands. Not the time to notice that, perhaps, but Jack has always had a weakness for a man’s hands. 

“Detective. I’m… not free to go, am I?”

“I’m sorry. My inspector thinks you look good for the murder. I disagree, but…” He draws in a sharp breath. “Until I can track down a likelier suspect, I’m afraid I have no choice but to beg your patience.”

“No choice?” He snorts. “I don’t see anyone else _begging my patience_ , Detective.”

“I don’t believe you’re a murderer, Mister Walker.” Watts says, entirely earnest. Even now, the way he holds himself… he’s a tall man, but he doesn’t stand straight. He keeps himself balled up tight, he leans forward but never too much. He makes himself small-- safe. “I’ve been asked to escort you to the cells.”

“Escort away.” Jack rises, moving to the door. The door Detective Watts holds open for him, shifting anxiously.

“I can assure you I have put a man onto another promising avenue of investigation. And that I do not intend to rest, until I am satisfied with the case’s conclusion.”

Jack isn’t entirely sure what to say to that. He’s not in the mood to thank anyone involved, no matter how well-meaning, but… he doesn’t imagine Watts is supposed to keep him apprised of the investigation, considering he’s currently the chief suspect.

“Are handcuffs necessary, for this trip?” He asks. As humor goes, it’s not much, but… he hopes it serves as an acknowledgment-- that he knows he could be grateful to the detective, for his kindness in the matter, even if coming out and thanking him is more than he can currently manage to do.

“No.” Watts frowns, looks almost stricken rather than… Jack doesn’t know. Rather than a nod, a wry smile, something to say yes, he understands. “Mister Walker, I assure you--”

“It’s fine.” Jack cuts him off. “Let’s just… get this over with, with however much of my dignity I have left.”

Watts nods. His hand hovers briefly near Jack’s elbow, but he doesn’t take hold of him, merely steers him in the right direction by his presence. He only straightens up to something approaching his full height as they’re passing by some center of activity, placing himself between Jack and the rest of the stationhouse, and then he’s hunched in on himself again as they head into the cells. Another slight straightening up, when he collects the keys from a constable outside, another ducking down... His hand never does take Jack’s arm, but as he passes through the door onto the cells, it does brush his lower back.

Jack turns to look over his shoulder and sees the detective pull further in on himself, the way he bites his lip and looks away. 

“Sorry.” He murmurs. “I’m sorry, that was-- unnecessary.”

“Did I complain?”

“I would.” Watts shrugs, and opens one of the cells. “I’m sure you can see how things look bad for you, after the way our interviews have gone, but in your place, I would complain, if I felt-- if I was unhappy, with my treatment.”

“All things considered, I seem to be being treated well, for a suspected murderer.” Jack admits, walking in. Watching the care Watts takes to close the door quietly, watching him fumble with the keys. “No handcuffs, allowed to walk under my own steam, I haven’t been spat on once. You haven’t even called me any nasty names, Detective. I don’t know how the average murder suspect is treated, but as far as arrests for sexual deviancy go, it’s a stay at the Ritz.”

Ah. And there’s the wince. Perhaps he might have saved some of his vitriol for someone who better deserved it.

“I haven’t… taken down any charges, of… At present, you’re simply a person of interest, as far as records go. It… it won’t mention any… deviancy.”

“...Thank you.”

“As you’d said, your reputation has a great bearing on your livelihood. I don’t intend to rob a good man of either. And I haven’t been convinced that you are not one.”

Jack leans against the door of his cell, looking the detective over, watching the way he shoves his hands down into his pockets and the way he seems to resist the urge to pace only with an immense effort. 

“I hope you have as much luck catching the killer as you did in finding me.”

The barest flicker of a smile crosses Watts’ face. He shrugs. “Well, it wasn’t _luck_ that led me to you, Mister Walker, it was work, but if indeed luck is a force in the universe which can be said to act upon us, I won’t turn my nose up at it. I… may come back to ask you some follow-up questions, if I think of any that might help you clear your name.”

“You’ll find me right where you left me, if you do.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” He turns away, shoulders coming up around his ears. Shuffles sideways towards the door, and Jack almost calls him back, though there’s nothing else to say. Nothing except that he thinks he knows him… and he’s not sure, under their circumstances, how much that can be worth.


End file.
